


Breathe

by turningthepages



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Pining, Pining Castiel (Supernatural), Supportive Mary Winchester, Supportive Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-04-24 18:53:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19179343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turningthepages/pseuds/turningthepages
Summary: Castiel has promised to remain by Dean’s side through anything, which now includes settling next to him as the hunter sleeps. As this new side of their friendship falls into a routine, Castiel’s feelings grow just as steadily.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited to be posting this and even more excited to have written a story to go along with the amazing art by [purzelndesbaeumchen](https://purzelndesbaeumchen.tumblr.com/)  
> It has been such a privilege to work with her and I hope this story does the art justice.  
> [Link to art masterpost here](https://purzelndesbaeumchen.tumblr.com/post/185542904863/breathe-castiel-has-promised-to-remain-by-deans)
> 
> Titled after the song Breathe by Faith Hill

Before, darkness had amplified the sounds of the world. The stillness of his charges sleeping, the sound of faucets dripping, miles away cars backfiring, insects chirping, and speaking—constant murmuring, so persistent it could almost be mistaken for the buzzing of the forest. Nothing ever tuned the sounds out completely; nothing until now.

These sounds, in this room—one beating heart, one set of lungs inhaling, exhaling, one single soul thrumming—he never grew tired of.

In all his time, in all the eons he’d been watching and observing, he’d felt the forces in the air: atmospheric, electric, magical, celestial, yet, none of them felt like this.

He couldn’t name it, or more he wouldn’t allow himself to name it, though he understood the change in the air came from him, from being here like this.

* * *

Dean’s eyes were wild as he stormed over to Castiel. The amount of times he’d seen this look on the hunter’s face had embedded the scene about to unfold in his mind like a movie. He knew exactly which words would accompany that look and which behavior would follow. It never ceased to play out just the same. 

“I told you I could handle it.”

Despite the hunter’s anger, Castiel’s attention could only focus on the gash on Dean’s upper shoulder. His instinct to reach across the foot of space between them and lay his hand upon the wound, permanently erasing the discomfort, nearly won out. Only his memories recalling when Dean had forbade such help ( _‘you need to stop healing every single one of my paper cuts, Cas. I can handle it’_ ) kept him from erasing the mark, no matter how uncomfortably the idea of allowing it to stay twisted in his chest.

As Dean’s eyes bore holes into the side of Castiel’s face, the angel forced himself to reply back neutrally, despite knowing nothing he said would placate the angry man.

“You may have said that you could handle it, but I saw the situation differently. Therefore, I intervened.”

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

He recalled the saying _‘if I had a coin for every time that was said,’_ and allowed himself to be humored internally. Now wasn’t the time or place to bring such thoughts, not when Dean wouldn’t even appreciate his usage of such colloquial. 

Dean’s anger was at the forefront of his feature yet Castiel knew fear was the true driving force here. In every instance Castiel had been on the receiving end of his friend’s harsh tongue, it narrowed down to one fact: Dean was terrified of losing any more people.

It was because of this fear and his protective and selfless nature that the hunter continued to throw himself into unnecessary danger in order to keep his loved ones out of it. Although Castiel felt fortunate to be among the people Dean cherished most in the world, it angered him to see Dean so reckless with his life when Castiel’s Grace still coursed through him. Sense could not be knocked into the man, no matter how many times Castiel tried to show reason.

Despite knowing the scene that would unfold each time Castiel stepped in to help his friend and hunting partner, he did it without question, for he knew his own life was not nearly as fragile as the human one he cared for so deeply. 

“No. _I_ could have been injured at most, but _you_ would have gotten yourself killed. Therefore, I had to step in.”

Castiel didn’t expect the taller man to suddenly accept his reasons nor did he expect anything other than the guarded look, pointed finger, and heated words, “Don’t do that again.”

Round and round they’d go, predictable as always, their small family willing to lay their lives down for one another without question causing the same argument to come to pass.

“You wouldn’t have done the same?” Castiel asked indignantly. 

“Of course I would have done the same. That doesn’t mean you get to do it!”

“Your logic is unparalleled.”

The gesture of rolling his eyes had been picked up from observation, mainly from watching Sam, and had stayed in his repertoire for moments like these, even though it earned him a near growl from the hunter in return. 

“Get in the car.”

The car ride was unsurprisingly silent with both the driver and the radio rendered stubbornly mute. This too had become familiar to him, Dean’s need for the ‘silent treatment’ when he felt upset.

As certain as he was that the silence was meant to result in his own discomfort or perhaps an apology, Castiel instead took the time to study the world outside the window, flashing by at a steady speed, enjoying the time for his own thoughts.

Humans by nature were predictable and, despite what they may believe, that fact included his hunters. Routines gave comfort and security whether it be a weekly shopping trip or a necessary trip to the laundromat during a case. Even during unpredictable hunts the two Winchester brothers had carefully crafted schedules they tended to follow, without fail, each time.

Their arguments also did not stray from such routine.

As he knew would happen when they arrived home, the hunter stormed off towards a random wing of the bunker leaving Castiel to explain the results of the case and why Dean was upset to the others. Often, Castiel, Sam, Jack, and Mary took to the library to chat some more until Dean’s need for food predictably brought him out of hiding.

Per usual, their meal was eaten together with a few other hunters from the apocalypse world joining in, although, Dean took time to chat with only Sam and Jack, making his silence with Castiel all the more apparent.

Castiel didn’t mind the silence as much as the others seemed to believe he did. If the looks of concern were anything to go by, the other occupants of the bunker truly believed he and Dean were experiencing a falling out. Perhaps it made sense for them to believe such a thing, as they hadn’t known either of the Winchester brothers for long nor Dean’s penchant for the overdramatic when he was upset. 

Castiel did, however, and that is why he stayed seated in the kitchen waiting until dinner was finished and cleared away, after the curious folk from the other world had all retired to their respective rooms. He waited until the sounds of the bunker narrowed down to only the sound of the air circulating through the vents and the hum from the refrigerator chilling their perishables. It was then that Dean came shuffling into the kitchen, hardly looking at the angel but signaling him to follow nonetheless. 

Their feet thumped on the tile as they made their way down the hallway and into Dean’s room. The second the door clicked shut behind them Castiel knew he’d get one of two outcomes from the other man: more silence or frustrated comments about why Castiel shouldn’t have done what he did.

Dean took the silent route this time.

Politely, Castiel turned away as Dean dressed down into his nightwear. The sound of sheets rustling on the bed signaled for the angel to remove his own clothes, borrowing a pair of Dean’s sleep pants before settling down on the side of the bed he generally perched.

He waited for the other man to speak, to give him a clue on what he was meant to do. He didn’t feel the need to apologize for stepping in to prevent a likely catastrophic injury, yet being alone without the understanding looks from Sam, Mary, or Jack, Castiel felt Dean’s silence start to wear on him.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Are you?”

“I’m not sorry for attempting to save you from harm but I am sorry for the duress it placed you under.”

“I’m not under duress,” Dean rebuffed instantly.

“Of course not,” Castiel sighed.

One day he hoped Dean would simply share his thoughts—his feelings—without being ashamed of doing so. As it were, that never happened nor did he believe it ever would. No matter how diligently Castiel attempted to remain a steady figure and a solid shoulder to lean on, it seemed Dean was unwilling to budge. And as of late it felt he was growing weary of Castiel’s presence. Especially when he still seemed angry, leaving Castiel to read between the lines of the hunter’s terse words of:

“I’m fine.”

The angel nodded his head in response, allowing Dean’s frustrations to voice what Dean wasn’t—perhaps the other man needed time away from him to ‘cool off.’ 

“Would you like me to leave you tonight?”

He turned to slide his legs off the bed, assuming he knew what Dean would say, yet before he could rise up, a hand grasped his arm keeping him from completing the movement.

“No!”

Castiel glanced down at the hand on him, unsurprised to see it pulled away quickly.

Dean’s face garnered no explanation, providing no hint as to what Castiel was meant to do. He stayed precariously teetering on the edge of the memory foam waiting for Dean to explain.

Discomfort was evident as Dean sputtered, “I mean, you can stay. If you want. You—You don’t have to. But you can. Never—never mind. Just go. You probably have more important things to do, right?”

He didn’t know how to respond, not right away. Assessing the situation with his human eyes, he could tell Dean was trying to make his posture as unreadable as possible, yet Castiel’s senses detected a distinct level of fear in the air. That’s when he understood.

If he left, Dean would be alone, and being alone meant the nightmares would come. It was a war Castiel often assumed Dean battled with himself: tolerate the angel’s company in order to sleep peacefully or lose out on another night of necessary slumber.

How his friend had endured all the many nights without sleep before, Castiel didn’t know. It wasn’t even until recently that he’d begun joining Dean at night.

It had all started a few months back once they’d returned from the apocalypse world—perhaps even before that really. It had taken weeks for Castiel to notice that something was wrong with Dean. Between returning from the empty, being captured by Asmodeus, searching for a way to get to the apocalypse world, and Lucifer breathing down their necks, there hadn’t exactly been a lot of spare moments to notice how little Dean was sleeping.

Bumping into Dean multiple times per night in their hallway, though not unusual, started happening with startling frequency making Castiel wonder if Dean was sleeping at all. It turned out, unfortunately, that he wasn’t. Dean’s sleeping habits had eroded from infrequent to nonexistent.

Knowing that even the dismal four hours Dean usually slumbered weren’t enough as it was, zero hours was significantly worse. With much persistence and some arguing (though not as much as anticipated) Castiel convinced his friend to allow small traces of Grace to aid his sleep. It helped for a few nights before it didn’t.

Teas, herbs, and Enochian incantations didn’t seem to help more than a warm glass of milk would (they tried… it hadn’t helped at all) so without many other options Castiel chose to spend the time Dean couldn’t sleep by talking, watching television, or reading books side by side in the “Dean Cave” or in Dean’s own room.

Dean seemed to have a preference for being in the comfort of his own room opposed to the other common areas in the bunker which in turn is where they spent most of their time. When Dean started to form the habit of nodding off less than an hour into their time together and _staying_ asleep, it was without discussion that Castiel would continuing joining Dean in his room once everyone had fallen asleep and remain there until morning. 

Even now, with dozens of hunters filtering in and out of the bunker, Castiel and Dean didn’t give up the routine which pleased the angel more than he could explain. For Dean’s sake, he truly wanted there to be another way to ensure his friend’s comfort, he knew how much the hunter didn’t like relying on others, but for Castiel’s own sake… he didn’t want anything to change.

If Dean asked, he’d go—he’d grant the other man his desire to be non-reliant of assistance—but he couldn’t deny how useful he felt in the few hours he spent by his hunter’s side each night. 

Dean needed him and Castiel wouldn’t leave, not when his friend sounded so fearful of his rest.

He settled back into his spot on the bed, the edge of the mattress pressing into his left thigh. A vulnerable question lurked in Dean’s eyes.

“Sleep,” Cas answered reassuringly, “I’ll watch over you.”

Weakly, his friend nodded and lay down again, turning away from the angel to face the opposite wall. With that signal, Castiel leaned over to turn off the lamp on the side table beside him, blanketing the room in darkness apart from the light beaming in under the doorframe. The headboard creaked as he pressed his back against it and settled into his spot, ready to wait for the hunter’s breaths to even out.

Minutes ticked by then close to an hour had passed and Dean’s breathing hadn’t evened out as it typically would have by now. His hunter hadn’t moved an inch since he first lay down, he noted—a peculiar thing as the man often tossed about each and every night until he found a comfortable position. 

Something was wrong but Castiel felt at no position to press the matter. He waited instead, for Dean to say something or for his charge to finally succumb to sleep. 

The air hummed and the building creaked as it settled around them. Somewhere in the bunker he could hear the sounds of a television on and a couple speaking about their day. He could hear a cough from a few rooms over and the sound of the faucet in the bathroom dripping. 

“I see every way it could go wrong.”

The hushed words sliced through the air, jerking Castiel’s thoughts toward them. He turned to look at Dean, almost wondering if he’d imagined the other man speaking, the sound so low it could have been mistaken for another voice from within the bunker walls. He waited for Dean to say more, worried if he spoke too soon Dean would close himself off again. 

He didn’t know if those words were the only thing that were going to be said but he waited all the same.

“Every near miss we have—even just…” Castiel felt the bed shake as Dean shuddered. “Even just tonight—I see every outcome… That’s… That’s what I see.”

He stopped talking. 

This, Castiel understood. He understood the gut-wrenching terror that drove through his core each and every time he saw Jack, Sam, or Dean put themselves in harms way. He understood the panic that flared up each time his family found themselves hurled across a room, sliced by a stray weapon, or lunged at by a monster. He understood the thoughts that swirled through his mind taunting him—telling him his loved ones could only be safe for so long.

He understood because he saw it too.

Unable to form words but needing to do _something_ he hoped reaching his hand over to place of Dean’s shoulder was a welcomed gesture.

An uneven breath shook the hunter’s shoulder before a warm hand rested on top of the angel’s. The hand did not let go, not even as Dean’s breathing indicated the man had finally fallen sound asleep.

* * *

Their routine morphed, ever so slightly after that night. Now as the blanket of darkness surrounded them and the sounds of the bunker filled the night air, Castiel’s hand found it’s spot on Dean’s shoulder as the hunter slept.

It filled him with what he could only describe as pride to see his friend no longer stirring, tossing about all hours of the night until his mind finally settled. Perhaps it was the physical reminder that he was not alone that granted Dean the peace of mind necessary to fall asleep more rapidly than he had before and now Castiel too could unwind easier seeing his friend sink into the mattress and fall into pleasant dreams. 

Even during his time as a human when dreams had been wildly new and often terrifying, there was something about the human mind’s ability to process information and the intricacies of life that still intrigued him—fascinated him. For some, dreams were filled with desires: wealth, fame, and power, yet for others they were filled with love and joy. Some were even as simplistic as peaceful solitude, fishing alone in the quiet peace of the day with no monsters, no life threatening circumstances, just peace.

He didn’t know if Dean still dreamed of that scene or if his dreams ever had Sam, Jack, Mary, or Castiel himself in them, but he liked to believe that the hunter still envisioned that scene as he slept. 

It was never a hardship to spend his nights by Dean’s side and truly the time passed by too quickly for his liking, but he still enjoyed occupying the time imagining what the hunter would see when his mind allowed good thoughts in, not nightmares or terrors.

He imagined Dean dreamed of driving in the Impala with the windows down and music blasting as he sang along. He imagined Dean dreamed vivid dreams about the world’s best cheeseburger. He imagined his hunter dreamed of their family: Mary in a safe warm home, Jack at school with friends his own age… Sam as a grown man, safe and with a family of his own. He imagined the big-hearted man dreamed of the bunker or another steadier home filled with their friends and family—all happy and healthy. 

He hoped—he longed—he _prayed_ Dean dreamed of his own future, a beautiful one filled with comfort and security and all the joy the man deserved.

… and a part of him, a large, inescapable part of him wondered if Dean dreamed of Cas by his side in the way the angel yearned to be.

He smiled down at Dean’s hand wrapped around his and thought about how years ago this touch would have never affected him in any form. As an angel he never should have been capable of caring for his Father’s creations as more than a shepherd, yet knowing the Winchesters, fighting alongside them, caring for them, sacrificing for them, and joining their family—it made him feel.

He felt joy for their companionship, sorrow by losses, anger towards their stubbornness—feelings and emotions he never thought himself capable of yet more than anything he felt love. For Sam, for Mary, and for Jack he felt love and fierce protectiveness, but the way he felt for Dean could not be defined by any common definitions of love he’d sought.

For years he found himself unwilling to accept that love was indeed what it was called.

To him it didn’t seem fair that such a small word could be used to describe something so complex. How could love be all that embodied the way he felt? The way Dean genuinely laughed when he heard a good joke or how he cooked while whistling to his favorite songs; the way he protected those around him without second thought, and how he never gave up on his family; the way he made Castiel feel like he’d lose everything if he ever lost Dean, yet like he’d be blessed for the rest of eternity just having known him for such a short time.

He listened to Dean’s breath in the silence, the way his steady heartbeat told the angel that this man was still here, alive, and safe in his care. He felt the way Dean’s hand tightened ever so slightly as he slumbered and he knew, to his very core, this is how love was supposed to be.

* * *

“Kid, I swear if you ate the last piece of bacon…”

Castiel looked up from the newspaper he’d been idly reading to see a guilty looking Jack with cheeks reminiscent of a chipmunk staring at Dean wide-eyed.

“I was hungry…” The kid sputtered, looking fruitlessly at the plate near the stove. Castiel could almost see the gears turning in his mind wondering if he could make bacon appear from thin air.

Knowing Dean’s stare down could last a while, the angel folded the morning paper up and laid it on the table before standing and declaring, “I’ll go buy some more.”

Dean gave up on his lack-of-bacon glare and turned towards Castiel, a smile pinching his cheeks.

“No, Cas, it’s fine. I was just kidding.” The hunter turned to Jack once more and shot him a mock-angry look. “I’m still hungry though. You guys up for some pancakes?”

“Yes!” Jack nearly shouted leaving Dean to laugh in response and turn back towards the pantry to get started on the rest of his cooking.

Now that Dean was effectively cooking for an army with the amount of people that came in and out of the bunker, the place always smelled of something delicious.

It was no surprise that the smell of warm syrup brought the others into the room, snatching stacks of pancakes and heaps of scrambled eggs as they filtered in.

As always, once everyone else had been fed, Dean sat down with his own place and dug into his food. He was still chewing happily when Sam strolled in from his morning jog. The taller Winchester pulled out his ear buds as he made a beeline towards the stack of extra pancakes on the counter.

“Oh hey, you’re all up,” he stacked a few ‘flapjacks’ onto his plate and garnished them with the leftover fruit Dean had set out. “So I caught wind of another case.”

“Dude,” Dean groaned with a mouthful of food. He took a moment to swallow before whining, “Me and Cas _just_ got back. Can’t we have more than just one night?”

“Look, I was listening to the online radio on my run and heard about some mysterious disappearances of some locals up in Grand Forks. Four of them so far all exactly one week apart.”

Four people in four weeks was enough to make Castiel grimace. Chances of getting all of them home safely were slim to none and by the look on Dean’s face, the hunter came to the same conclusion.

“What are you thinking?” Castiel could tell Dean’s mind was working, likely accessing any and all ways to kill this unknown monster as soon as possible.

“It’s hard to say…” Sam started, still grazing on his breakfast, “Could be anything: djinn, vampires, shape shifters, rugaru, demons maybe…. Won’t know until we check it out.”

“Cockroaches. All of them.”

A small grunt-like laugh left Sam’s lips. “They’re monsters. What do you expect?”

“For the monsters to be as old as us now. Don’t they want to retire too? Live their monster lives in their monster country clubs? I just want to sleep in my damn bed.”

Castiel felt the faint traces of a smile on his cheeks hearing those words.

Oblivious to his thoughts, Sam continued talking, “Do we want to split up again or go together? Me and Cas can go and you and Jack can stay and run point here?”

“We don’t know what this thing is,” Dean stated gravely, “Let’s just go together and gank this asshole.”

The hunt wound up lasting about a week. It took longer than they’d like to figure out which monster was kidnapping folks with most of the locals unwilling to trust three strangers asking them questions.

Though there was the added challenge of distrustful locals, the hunt was as average and routine as any hunt could be. It took four days, two beheaded vampires, and four of five victims (one more had been captured the day after they arrived to town, the first had tragically not survived) successfully reunited with their families before the case was closed.

Jack had wound up on a hunt with Mary and Bobby instead, and even down one hunter there hadn’t been a need for Dean, Sam, and Cas to all be there. Sam had even lamented that he could have sent some of the lesser trained hunters from the bunker on this excursion and they would have been just fine. There was nothing they could do to change the situation but it was clear the three of them wanted to return home and quickly as possible. 

The prospect of the ten-hour drive back to the bunker had even a grunting and groaning Dean acquiesce to staying one more night at the motel. 

Sam and Dean grumbled quietly over their sore muscles and overworked joints the minute they were back in the room (though they still denied Cas’s help in pain alleviation). Even Castiel felt worn down and was ready to not be on his feet.

It came as no surprise that hardly an hour later Sam had already fallen into a deep sleep sprawled on one of the two double beds. Dean hadn’t been gifted as much luck.

The elder hunter tossed back and forth, punching his pillow into submission each time he turned. With every creak of the bed and rustle of the sheets Castiel found himself growing more uncomfortable in the kitchenette’s rickety dining chair, albeit not physically.

It seemed an unspoken rule that offering his company during the night did not extend to hunts where they were not alone and Castiel understood why. Dean’s desire to not be caught needing assistance with his sleep—likely pride or embarrassment of needing a friendly figure around kept the other man from broadcasting the routine they’d fallen into.

Instinctively, Castiel knew none of their family members would think less of Dean for it but he knew it wasn’t his secret to tell. 

A frustrated sigh in the bed closest to him was the sound that had the angel rethinking the situation. Would it hurt to at least offer? 

Unsure but hopeful, he shed his coat and jacket and toed off his shoes before moving towards the restless hunter.

“Is it alright if I sit here,” he whispered in question, “the chair is uncomfortable.”

“Yeah… yeah that’s fine.”

“Thank you.”

Without another word Castiel settled back, crossing his feet at the ankles and resting his hands on his stomach like he usually did. He waited to hear the sound of Dean’s breath evening out, indicating that sleep had come but the sound never came.

More rustling of sheets and a dozen or so yanks of the comforter and Dean continued groaning next to him, “Can’t fucking get comfortable!” 

Clear frustration was in the other man’s voice and, wanting to offer his comfort, Castiel reached out, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder as he had been for many nights.

“Dean…”

Where he thought his gesture would be appreciated, ended with the hunter roughly shoving his hand away.

“I’m fine. Just give me some space.”

“I’m sorry,” He said immediately, rushing to grant Dean’s wish. He shouldn’t have assumed Dean wanted his company anyway, yet his own desires had overridden his logic. It was foolish of him to even ask to join Dean in the bed knowing how easily Sam could wake in the middle of the night and see them beside one another. 

Silently he turned to remove himself from the bed to make it back to the chair, but a frustrated growl kept him from moving. 

“Damnit Cas, I didn’t mean you had to get off the bed just…” Dean’s hair stood on all ends as he wrung his fingers through it. He didn’t sound very convincing as he whispered, “I’m fine okay? Just sit back down.” 

Stuck in a battle between what Dean was saying and what his body language seemed to be saying, Castiel decided to follow what his own desires requested.

He returned to Dean’s side.

It still took nearly an hour before the sounds of Dean’s snores filled the space between them.

He worried that it wouldn’t be long before his help wouldn’t be effective anymore.

* * *

Now he sat on the furthest edge of the bed, ensuring that he did not encroach on Dean’s space as he slept.

The self-imposed distance between them reminded him of the early days of watching over Dean as he slumbered, when he’d once used to sit on the chair Dean kept near the end of his bed. Once, Dean had woken up in the middle of the night and seen him there. The furrow of the hunter’s brow and the annoyed _‘just sit on the damn bed, it’s creepy’_ had been the end of that chair’s occupancy.

He wondered if Dean wanted him to revert back to using it—though the chair no longer had a place in his room somehow disappearing not long after Dean had seen him occupying it. It wouldn’t be a hassle to go seek one out from another part of the bunker if the other man requested so. 

A rustling sound next to him pulled Castiel from those thoughts. He watched Dean groggily wake—still nearly midnight—and heave a few dry coughs before reaching for the cup of water on his side table. The angel could tell his friend was nowhere near full wakefulness and would only be a matter of moments before he dozed off once more.

With a few grunts and shuffles Dean settled onto his side, now looking at Castiel between heavy lids. He couldn’t be certain but through slow blinking Dean appeared to be scanning the sheets between them with a look of dazed confusion. 

Castiel wondered if he was still sitting too close.

He scooted over a little more, hoping that the space between them would suffice more to Dean’s liking.

A line formed between Dean’s furrowed brow, “Are you leaving?”

“No.”

“Sorry,” the hunter said hoarsely. He scooted over a few inches on the bed and tugged at Cas’s pajama pant leg, encouraging him to scoot more towards the center of the bed. “Here. Get comfy.”

Confused as he was by Dean’s bleary command, he wasn’t about to turn down the request.

His heart, though he knew he shouldn’t allow himself such thoughts, grew even fonder of this time as he saw Dean’s hand outstretched towards him.

* * *

Sam had seen them, just the once on that hunt weeks ago.

It had been Castiel’s fault. He should have eased himself out of bed long before Sam even awoke but he’d been distracted.

It was so rare that he got to watch as the morning sunlight beamed through the curtains and landed on Dean’s skin. With the lack of windows in the bunker or the blackout curtains Dean usually insisted on closing when it was just he and Castiel at motels, the angel didn’t get to see this sight enough.

Transfixed by the golden light dancing across his face and the gentle fluttering of Dean’s long lashes against his cheeks, Castiel had never been so swept away. With every moment that passed he took the time to memorize the lines around Dean’s eyes, the soft freckles peppering his cheeks, and the faintest smile that crossed his lips as he dreamed. He was certain he’d never see a sight so beautiful ever again his lifetime.

Mesmerized by the holder of his heart, he hadn’t noticed Sam stirring awake or sliding out of bed. It wasn’t until the younger man was walking past the foot of Dean’s bed that Castiel knew he’d been caught.

When his eyes locked with Sam’s he expected to see confusion from the other man; he didn’t expect Sam to be looking at him with a small, tender smile.

He didn’t say a word but somehow Cas knew Sam understood.

Days went by and Castiel waited for Dean to say something about spilling their secret, then a week had passed, yet not a word was spoken. Leave it to Sam Winchester to know his brother well enough to not broadcast the fact that the love-sick angel was watching over Dean each and every night.

It was a blessing that Sam understood or simply took pity on Castiel’s bleeding heart because if he’d have said something to Dean, the angel knew this new addition to their routine could have never taken place. 

Cas’s heart thrummed in his chest as Dean drifted awake slowly, nuzzling against Cas’s chest as he stretched his limbs.

Somewhere in the night the space between them had grown smaller and the inches between them had vanished. Unsure of what to do, Castiel remained still, wondering if he should slide to the edge of the bed again but the moment Dean’s arm slipped around his waist he was loath to move.

He knew if someone saw him now they’d see nothing but adoration in his eyes as he stared down at the sleeping form next to him. His fingers twitched, wanting so deeply to run them through the soft hair sticking up around Dean’s temples—wanted to be granted permission to have those soft touches for the rest of their time together. Nothing would make him happier. 

It took the hunter a while to come back to the land of the living and even longer to realize that he was no longer resting on his pillow but instead on Castiel.

“Good morning, Dean,” Cas offered gently, hoping upon hope that Dean wouldn’t be embarrassed by this new arrangement. 

His friend flailed back as if burned. 

“Shit—shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t even realize… I’m sorry.”

He bit back his disappointment, knowing an apology over the arrangement was better than downright disgust at Dean having woken up in his arms.

“No need to apologize. I don’t mind.”

Dean’s eyebrows drew together as he took in the angel sitting on the bed. Castiel offered him a smile.

“Still… that’s—that’s weird.” Something morphed in Dean’s eyes then making him sound unsure as he asked, “Right?”

“I fail to see how.”

“I can’t just—just sleep on you.”

“I don’t mind.” He was trying to remain nonchalant about it though every part of him wondered if Dean wanted this to become normal for them as well. The lack of repulsion in Dean’s look made hope fill his heart.

“You don’t?”

“Not at all,” Cas replied plainly. His words appeared to have startled Dean, as the other man’s features changed rapidly from cautious to confused. 

“Oh—okay then.”

He didn’t say anything else for a while, just stared at Castiel with his mouth slightly agape.

The hunter swallowed thickly before shaking the fog from his brain and nearly leaping out of the bed.

“I’m gonna go cook now,” he announced without looking back. 

Castiel sat in Dean’s room for a few minutes wondering what to do.

Did he cross a line allowing Dean to settle in his embrace? Surely if Dean hadn’t wanted that to happen he’d explicitly state it couldn’t happen again, right? Was this something they’d have to speak about? They hadn’t exactly said anything to one another about this nightly routine it just… was.

Knowing he’d been alone in Dean’s room entirely too long, Castiel pulled himself from the bed and quickly redressed in his own clothes before making his way to the door.

With his mind still a flurry of what he was going to say to Dean that night, he hadn’t bothered to peek out the door before completely emerging. Thus him bumping straight into Mary Winchester as he exited Dean’s room.

“Oh, Castiel.”

“Mary,” he greeted, feeling his cheeks heating up. He knew he looked far more disheveled than usual with his dress shirt untucked and his coats hanging over his arm. 

Mary’s eyes turned questioning as she peered over his shoulder as if to look through the closed door.

“Were you just in Dean’s room?”

He felt his cheeks twitch in an attempt at a neutral face but even the words out of his mouth sounded like a child caught ‘red handed,’ “I—I was. Yes.”

“Right.” The two stood there for an uncomfortable moment as Mary assessed him with unreadable eyes. Slowly she nodded and backed away. “I’m going—I’m going to go check on Sam.”

The lie sounded exactly like that, a lie, yet Castiel was disinclined to call her out on it. He nodded with a tight smile.

“Of course.”

The day went by as most do. Hunters flitted in and out of the bunker as Sam and Dean found cases for them across the states. People sought him out for his knowledge or for assistance navigating the Men of Letters’ archives for information on hunts. With each hunt assigned, each hunt completed, they were becoming something that resembled a well-oiled machine.

The business of their day nearly led to Castiel forgetting about the uncomfortable run in with Mary.

The reminder hit him squarely when Dean and Cas were alone in the kitchen, Dean snagging a few moments to quietly drink a beer. The two were simply talking when Mary Winchester walked in to snatch a drink for herself.

“Oh. Boys. Hello.”

“Hey, mom.”

“How are you… both.” Her question came out awkwardly, leading her to repeat it more cheerfully, “How are you both?” 

“Uh, we’re good?” Dean smiled at her with a look that Castiel knew read _‘you’re acting weird.’_

“Good. Good.” She nodded with an overly large smile. With her beer gripped in her hand she moved to walk towards the door but stopped in her tracks and turned towards he and Dean.

“I—I love you both very much. And—I’m proud of both of you. No matter what. Just know that.”

Castiel felt his heart beating in his throat, knowing instantly what she was implying despite his usual lack of awareness.

Dean however looked dumbfounded. “Thanks? I think?”

“Right. You two have fun. I’ll—I’ll leave you to… whatever you were doing.”

Without another glance she was out of the room.

“Was she acting weird to you,” Dean asked the minute his mother was out the door.

Castiel could only nod. He knew a grimace was plastered on his face.

“Dude, what’s up?”

He hoped honesty was the best course of action.

“Your mother saw me coming out of your room.”

“Okay? Did she say something to you when she did?” 

“She seemed perplexed and then… then she made up an excuse that she was going to check on Sam.”

“Oh— _oh._ ” Realization seemed to officially dawn on the hunter. “That’s what _that_ was all about?”

Shame filled Cas’s gut. The one thing he was meant to keep quiet about, the one secret he had to keep for Dean and he blew it. It devastated him to think that this was where their arrangement would all end.

“I apologize for being caught, truly. I won’t let that happen again.”

For what it was, Dean didn’t seem to be particularly upset. “It’s cool. Don’t stress.”

He couldn’t help it though. The thought of Dean no longer in his arms, sleeping so soundly beside him at night made his heart ache. He wanted to ensure his friend that he wouldn’t allow another slipup again. Dean could trust him.

“Still, no one else needs to know.” He asserted. “I’ll be more discreet, I swear.”

He should’ve known that something was wrong when Dean’s smile didn’t fully reach his eyes.

* * *

Crawling into bed that night had felt off. Dean never once looked at him and Castiel felt, for the first time in a long time, too awkward in his own body.

His back couldn’t find the right spot against the head of the bed, his legs felt too stiff across the mattress, his arms couldn’t settle well against his torso, and Dean… he wasn’t close enough to Castiel for him to even feel an tendril of warmth. 

Neither man completely settled even as the night ticked by.

It was after Castiel had adjusted himself for what felt like the fiftieth time that Dean finally broke the silence.

“You don’t have to.” He gritted out through clenched teeth.

“I don’t have to, what?”

“Stay.”

Castiel let his eyes fall closed for a moment as he braced himself for the inevitable rejection.

“You’ve asked me to.”

“Yeah, but, you don’t have to. I’m not holding you at gunpoint or something.”

“I’m aware.”

“So you can—you can just leave?”

It was the hint, the faintest trace of a question in the command that had Castiel hoping Dean wouldn’t make him leave.

“Is that what you want?”

“Sure, whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, alright.”

Hope was a dangerous thing. His heart cracked in two, but he attempted to keep the emotion out of his voice as he followed Dean’s request.

He didn’t even remember to collect his clothing as he made his way out of Dean’s room with haste, his mind swirling with the helplessness the rejection left him with. 

It was just his luck that he was blindsided again walking out of Dean’s room, slamming into another body for a second time that day.

“Why don’t you have a shirt on?” Jack asked with a deep tilt of his head.

Slowly walking down the hallway, away from the general vicinity of Dean’s room, Castiel found himself replying, “I was relaxing.”

“In Dean’s room?”

“Yes.”

“Without a shirt?”

“Yes.”

“Were you watching him sleep again?”

Jack’s questions didn’t miss a beat, nor did they appear anything deeper than clarifying what he seemed to already know.

Castiel felt that lying was counterintuitive at this point.

“Yes,” he confirmed quietly. It didn’t stifle Jack’s curiosity any more. 

“Why do you do that?”

“It helps him sleep better.”

“Is that customary? To watch someone sleep?”

“Generally no. I’ve been told it’s ‘creepy.’” He supplied, thinking back to the many times both Sam and Dean had said those exact words to him.

“But it’s not creepy to Dean?”

“He said it was before. I don’t believe it is to him anymore.”

“Do you enjoy watching him sleep?”

There was no plausible way Jack could understand the depth of that question, how thoroughly Castiel’s heart cracked open just thinking of the privilege it had been to be gifted any time at all watching Dean at his most vulnerable. Something he may never have again. 

He kept his tone passive as he replied, “I enjoy being able to help a friend get much needed rest.”

“And you don’t find that boring? I’m finding the nights here while everyone is sleeping to be quite dull. We have to be quiet yet there’s nothing entertaining to do while being quiet. Maybe I should ask Sam if I can watch him sleep. Maybe that wouldn’t be boring.”

“Jack, I’m not sure Sam would agree to that.”

“Why not? It helps Dean so it should help Sam too.”

His fondness for the boy, the young man he cared for as a son, knew no bounds. It secretly pleased him to see just how similar Jack was to Castiel only a few years ago. He was excited for all the young man would learn in his life.

“Perhaps it would help, but you should probably spend your time doing something that interests you. We can possibly ask Sam if he can set you up with a laptop to watch movies and shows or find some new books for you to read.”

“Oh. That would be nice. Thank you, Castiel.”

“Of course.”

Without another word Jack set off towards another area of the bunker leaving Cas to wander the halls in search of an unoccupied area.

Settling on Dean’s “Dean Cave,” where the eldest Winchester had banned anyone non-family from occupying, Castiel flopped down onto the couch and sighed.

It’d only been a few months he’d had the privilege of sharing the night by Dean’s side so logically he understood that he should not be upset that it had finally ended, yet he’d long since learned that love had little logic to it.

He was never supposed to love a human above God, above heaven, above all others but he was helpless to fall. Dean Winchester had changed him in more ways than he could recall. The other man taught Castiel that he could choose right from wrong, he taught Castiel that he could be redeemed after falling so far from the right path, and he taught Castiel that he was worthy of having a family.

If all he would ever be granted was a steady place in Dean’s life as his friend, he’d take that without hesitation because knowing Dean was the greatest pleasure of his life. His heart may ache to show the other man just how loved he is, to hold him when life became too much, to learn every detail he could of his skin… but he would be Dean’s friend if that’s what the other man requested.

He just didn’t know if that was what Dean wanted.

It had felt so simple, so right to hold Dean in his arms. Surely Dean had felt it too? Were they forever going to live beside one another, knowing how it felt to be in each other’s embrace and never give into it again? Would that be their future?

With everything he was, Castiel didn’t want that to be it. He wanted to be by Dean’s side for the rest of the man’s days, and he didn’t know if he could wait.

His heart was the one that led him back through the hallway and straight to Dean’s door again.

He turned the handle slowly and let himself in.

Instantly he knew something was wrong.

The hunter thrashed and moaned as he ensnared himself in the sheets.

In two bounds Castiel was by his side hushing Dean softly and shaking him awake.

“I’m here, I’m here.” He whispered, waiting as Dean assessed his surroundings.

Merely moments after Dean realized it was just a dream, he shrugged Castiel’s hand off his shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m still here.”

“I don’t need your pity,” the hunter growled, refusing to look Castiel in the eye.

“My pity?”

“Whatever it is that keeps you here.”

“I can assure you it’s not pity.”

His answer didn’t seem to satisfy the other man.

“Just go,” he whispered, sounding undeniably hurt.

“I want to be here.”

“Why?”

“I just do.”

“Don’t you get tired of wasting your time around some useless hunter?”

There was so much he wanted to say to that. How Dean was anything but useless. Dean was… Dean was _everything_ but now was not the time to argue. 

“Never,” he answered, pouring his heart into the single word. 

“How?”

“I just don’t.”

Dean’s eyes pleaded with him.

“I wish you would answer me. For once, I wish you would just tell me what you feel.”

He understood that wish more than Dean knew. Still, fulfilling it was harder than he expected.

“I’m scared you wouldn’t want to hear it,” Castiel whispered. 

“I do. I do want to hear it.”

He knew at this moment he could have kept it all in, could have continued going on the way they had been for years and never allow himself to fully have this. He knew he could simply say it didn’t matter and Dean’s shoulders would sink for a split second only for him to brush it off and accept things for how they are. 

They’d come too far for this to be it. There was nothing left to prove. 

He let himself give into the desire he’d been resisting for so long. 

With his eyes focused on Dean’s he whispered, “I’ve never… I’ve never thought of this as wasted time—to me it’s anything but. Our time…”

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, but Dean’s hand moved from where it’d been gripping the sheets to settle on Castiel’s knee. 

“Tell me,” he pleaded. 

Cas could feel the heat of Dean’s breath against his cheek. His arms ached to pull Dean to his chest but he needed to do this, he needed to say what he’d been holding in his chest for too long.

“Our time together, in the grand scheme of things, is finite Dean. And for me... it means I want to engrave every single moment I have with you into memory, each and every moment I get to spend in your presence, even while you sleep because someday…. Someday I’ll want to remember what it felt like to feel the magic of your breath against my skin, to remember the way you smell right after a shower, and how gentle your eyes look when you wake up and smile at me. I want every moment I can share with you…. Whatever you’ll give me.”

The room was silent as Castiel looked into Dean’s wide eyes that suddenly glistened with emotion. The angel worried, only for a second, that’d he’d said something wrong as Dean appeared completely speechless. 

He almost apologized for catching Dean off guard but before he could utter a word the hunters strong arms encircling him, wrapping Castiel in the warmest embrace. With Dean’s cheek on his shoulder, Castiel allowed himself to breathe in the scent of his heart, locking the moment away in his memory for eternity. 

“I’ll give you all the moments you want,” Dean whispered into his skin. 

He could feel the hunter smile as he asked, “What if I want all of them?”

“Then they’re yours.”

“Dean I—“

The hunter pulled back just enough to look at the angel. His bright green eyes shone even in the dim light of the lamp. Warm calloused hands cupped Castiel’s cheeks causing the angel to lean into the touch, cherishing the way Dean’s thumbs soothed over his skin. 

“I know. I know. Me too.” Deep, unbounding love reflected back in Dean’s eyes and Castiel felt his heart reach out towards it. 

“I want to… I want to be able to express the depth that I feel—to let you know how you’ve… how you’ve made these years—in all my time—these years are the ones that shine so brightly. I just—I just don’t have the words.”

Dean’s smile was infectious, “That much, huh?” 

It wasn’t enough. He could spend all of eternity searching for the right words and he likely never would get them just right. Castiel knew he would look back at their time together, long after his hunter finds his place in eternal life, and wonder if there’d ever be a word to describe all that Dean has done for him, has meant to him… will mean to him. 

His unwavering truth was as simple as this: his love for Dean Winchester came as easily as his ability to breathe.

“More. So much more.”


End file.
